chaperone Gussie and Florence till such time as either Gussie or you are married and don't want me; for Mrs. Knightly won't go out, and they would sooner go with me than almost any one else, wouldn't they, Georgie?'

'Much sooner, I should think. It's a capital idea of yours. I heard from Rupert on Monday. I wonder he did not say they were coming up so soon.'

"Wanted to surprise you probably. I hope he will come to-night,' said Mrs. Vining, turning away from Georgie, after bidding her look for her to-morrow at Kensington Gore at two o'clock, and addressing a gentleman who, in consequence of having overheard their conversation and allusions to some Rupert, was employed in making up his mind not to address those lovely lines of his to proud Clifford's daughter' as he had intended.

'Are the Knightlys Mrs. Vining was speaking of the same there was that little buzzing talk about last year, Miss Clifford?' asked a slight, refined-looking, pale, dark man, with a smile that was half a sneer hovering perpetually over his face.

'You ignore my share in the conversation, Colonel Crofton,' replied Miss Clifford. Tell me what the little buzzing talk was about, and I will then tell you whether it related to the same family Mrs. Vining and I were speaking of.'

'Miss Clifford places me in the witness-box, and demands the truth -nothing but it-and the whole of it. Here goes then; the talking in question-of which, of course, you are ignorant, how should you be otherwise?-consisted of a series of smart and other sayings, which went the round of the clubs and other gossip-shops last season, relating to the doting folly of the rich Mr. Knightly, who left his sons and daughters penniless in carrying out his fine theory of doing all honour to his wife. Many-tongued report also added-forgive me, Miss Clifford, I'm in the witness-box, you know that this judicious last will and testament would be the cause of swamping the matrimonial arrangements of the junior members

of the family. That the classicalfaced Augusta

'Who refused you, Colonel Crofton, two years ago; go on,' interrupted Georgie Clifford.

Miss Clifford honours me too much by remembering such trifles in connection with me; however, to proceed that the beautiful Miss Knightly, who, as you kindly remarked, was good enough to refuse me two years ago, will never queen it over society as Lady Tollemache, and that the eldest son

'To whom I am engaged, Colonel -allow me to remind you of that fact, which appears to have escaped your memory

'Is likely to sue in vain for the hand of Lord Clifford's daughter; say, Georgie, is it so ?'

He came nearer to her as he spoke, with his polished easy air, and Vandyke face, and with passionate admiration in his dark halfclosed eyes. He came nearer to her, fascinating her into silence by the depth and earnestness of his gaze. 'Say, Georgie, is it so?'

He had asked the question in all seriousness the first time, but the second, a half-smile played about his mouth and eyes, and stung her into speech.

'How dare you put me into such a position, Colonel Crofton? how dare you, after my telling you again to-night, what you well knew before, that I am engaged to Rupert Knightly?'

'Miss Clifford certainly made a statement of a fact with great frankness, about which young ladies are generally more reticent.'

'Because you forced me to it; you obliged me to be either ungenerous to Rupert Knightly, orunfeminine I suppose you will call it. I prefer being the latter, and bearing the brunt of your sarcasms, Colonel Crofton. Rupert Knightly will have the hand of Lord Clifford's daughter, as you poetically phrased it, whenever it suits Rupert Knightly to claim it.'

'It is you who are sarcastic now, Georgie,-Miss Clifford! Can you imagine no deeper motive than idle curiosity on my part when I asked you that question?'

A quick warm blush overspread Miss Clifford's face as she replied, 'No; for your own sake I am unwilling to believe you had another motive; for you have always professed friendship for Mr. Knightly.'

'Chivalrous notions these, Miss Clifford; however, I accept the rebuke, and now, are we friends again? Though you despise me yourself, perhaps you will allow me to endeavour to create a favourable impression on Miss Florence Knightly?'

That I do not think you will ever do,' replied Miss Clifford, and as Rupert Knightly then entered the room, she held no further conversation with Colonel Crofton that night.

Colonel Crofton was a man of two or three-and-forty, with a polished, cold, hard exterior, and a handsome though cynical and melancholy face. He was of good family, and, without any ostensible means beyond his pay, always contrived to be in the best society, to have the most unexceptionable chambers-he had retired from active service-and to be the best-mounted and best-dressed man in the Row.' He had no very intimate friends; men admired him, did not exactly see through him, and, as a rule, did not like him very much. Women did not understand him, and consequently, as a rule, liked him very much indeed, as they frequently do those whom they do not understand. And Colonel Crofton cared very little whether the generality approved of him or not.

Mrs. Knightly sat with her daughters and her youngest son in the spacious drawing-room, in their handsome house in Piccadilly. The windows were open, and the air came throbbing in laden with the perfume of the flowers with which the balcony abounded. The comely widow had got to the silvery shades of mourning. The heavy crape had given way to the most delicate of pearly tints and thinnest of materials. Her year of strict retirement had not at all attenuated her or robbed her of her bloom. She was a fresher, fairer rose than one could reasonably have expected such a mature one to be. Mrs. Knightly

had on the whole enjoyed herself very much indeed at Warmingston. Rupert had never once offered to interfere in anything, and she had liked the steward coming to her, to know what should be done as to everything connected with the land and the tenantry upon it. She had offered to bear the expenses of his election if he would like to come forward for the borough; and this Rupert had declined rather coldly, for he felt that he ought to have been in a different position-in one which would have enabled him to bear the expenses himself. His mother only opened her limpid eyes a little wider at this refusal and manner of Rupert's. Gerald had spoken to her warmly and forcibly, though still gently and affectionately, for this these sons never forgot, about the injustice which had been dealt to Rupert; and he had brought a terrible storm of hysterics about his ears, and sobbing offers to give them everything and go and be a nurse in a hospital or a sister of mercy. This had been too much for Gerald, who resolved that henceforth he would be silent on the subject; but still he steadily refused to have that affair of the exchange arranged.

Augusta was sitting near the open window when the sharp draw-up of wheels attracted her attention; looking up, she exclaimed, 'Here is Georgie Clifford, mamma, with Mrs. Vining!' and presently the visitors were in the room.

Now Georgie Clifford had a keen idea that Rupert was being very badly treated by his mother in this matter of the property, though he had never spoken on the subject to her; but still she really liked Mrs. Knightly, and met her after this long period of non-intercourse as warmly as ever.

The two Knightlys and Georgie were very fond of each other, quite independently of the future sister-inlaw-ship which was to exist between them; and Gerald believed his brother's betrothed bride to be as perfect in every respect as a woman could be. The majority of the party being so little antagonistic, it is difficult to conceive how the meeting

I could have been other than harmonious; but alas! one of Mrs. Knightly's heart-strings got jarred.

I am going to propose, Mrs. Knightly,' Mrs. Vining said, in her off-hand way, that till Gussie or Georgie can do it, the girls go out with me; and I am ready to begin my duties to-night, by taking one or both of them to the Opera.'

Mrs. Knightly smiled, and said, 'it was very kind, and she was much obliged;' but she felt injured to the very centre of her being. If Mrs. Vining represented general opinion, then general opinion took it for granted that she, the wealthiest and most independent woman in London, was going to shut herself up and have done with pomps and vanities. And by her offer, pretty dashing Mrs. Vining made an enemy on the spot.

to-night; papa has a dinner-party; and I have some people coming in the evening. Does Harry go with you?'

'No; he has deputed Colonel Crofton to represent him, and bring us safely through the crush.'

'Colonel Crofton? Ah! well, goodbye;' and Miss Clifford walked into her father's house, feeling that she would have given no small sum to have been able to guard Rupert Knightly's youngest sister against the insidious advances of a man of whom she felt so doubtful as she did of Colonel Crofton.

Georgie had no time to seek her father, and tell him the impression her mind had received from this visit to the Knightlys, for she had stayed in the park till late; and when her maid had given the

finishing touch to her costume, and she had descended to the drawingroom, she found most of their guests had arrived.

Rupert Knightly was there; and Georgie was as graceful, pleasing, attentive a hostess as ever: but still her father, who knew by heart every shade and expression of the face of this only cherished daughter of his, saw that something had occurred to give her food for reflection. Lord Clifford was a silverhaired old man of nearly seventy, and a fine type of what he was, an old naval officer. He had just attained post rank when he came most unexpectedly into the title, and then he had married, and seen little service after, so that he had never risen beyond it.

He was very fond of collecting naval men about him, and telling them his old stories, which Georgie knew by heart but never grew tired of listening to, and hearing details of the social life of the service of the present day. This day he would have enjoyed himself particularly, for he had two or three young officers, a lieutenant, and an assistant surgeon amongst them, dining with him, who had been stationed in the Bay of Naples for the last year and a half; and these were full of the Bourbon iniquities (tempered slightly by their admiration for the lovely queen), and of Garibaldi enthusiasm. But that shadow over Georgie's eyes disturbed him; and for once in his life the hospitable old gentleman wished his guests away, that he might learn the cause of it.

He felt sure it was something connected with the Knightlys, for they, too-the father and daughter -had talked it over many times during the last twelvemonth.

He

had known, from Rupert's manner that a heavy weight was pressing on the young man's heart; but with true delicacy he had never once alluded to a subject that he felt convinced must be so painful to Rupert, determining quietly in his own mind, that if Mrs. Knightly took no steps at the expiration of her year of retirement, he would offer to make Rupert's position

nearly as good, as Lord Clifford's son-in-law, as it ought to have been had he come before the world as Rupert Knightly, Esq., owner of the Hall, and M.P. for Warmingston.

But he had not to wait till their guests dispersed to learn the cause of the cloud in Georgie's eyes, for during a terrific conflict between a young lady and the piano, Georgie came up to him and said, in low tones and with an earnestness that almost amused him

'Oh, papa! Mrs. Knightly is in grey barège and-blushes.'

The father and daughter were eminently sympathetic; and trivial as the phrase appears, Lord Clifford fully understood now why Georgie had looked grave.

Rupert was the last to leave. He had been standing silently for some minutes, till his eyes had caught the reflection of the shadow in Georgie's, and then he looked up frankly into Lord Clifford's face, and said—

'My mother is up in town again, sir: I suppose Georgie has told you; and to-day I have drawn my quarterly allowance. I am nothing, I have nothing, save at her will and pleasure; and under these circumstances I am bound to resign all claim to the hand you promised me a year and a half since.'

His face had grown very white as he spoke, and his eyes inexpressibly sad, but a crimson flood passed over the one and light came back to the other, as Lord Clifford, rising, placed his hand on his shoulder and replied

'I have no son, Rupert; it will be a small thing to me to settle all I have upon you, considering I have already given you the most valuable thing I possess the hand of my little Georgie.'

What could Rupert say? It was not a pleasant or an easy matter for him to accept this favour at the hands even of such a true, old friend as Lord Clifford was; but what could he do, knowing, as he well did, how Georgie's happiness was bound up in him? To refuse this offer of her father's would be to abjure her hand, to crush her woman's pride, to bitterly mock and wound her woman's love. He had thought to

lay so much at her feet, and now that hope was baffled, and he must occupy the position of the receiver instead of that of the donor, or be cruel in his unrelenting pride and self-respect. There was a fierce struggle for a few moments between his good and evil angel, and then looking into the pleading, anxious eyes of the woman who had given him her heart, love was still the lord of all,' and he wrung with grateful warmth the hand of the generous old man, and felt, now that it was removed, what a weight had been on his heart all these months.

'Will you ride with me to-morrow at twelve, Georgie?'

'Yes, Rupert; and, oh! remind me that I have something to tell you-I've no time now, it's so lateabout Colonel Crofton. Good night, Rupert; we must not keep papa up any longer.'

But papa stayed up some little time and talked to Georgie about the widow. I only wish I could give Gussie what Tollemache understood she was to have, Georgie; but I must take care that this Rupert of yours does not feel what he has lost. Absurd boy, to imagine his mother's folly could make any difference to us.'

'But, papa, isn't it strangewrong of her? I did think better of her than I do now.'

'My dear child, she's a woman I could never think well or ill of. I liked her when she was powerless, because then her uncontrollable silliness did not affect the peace of any one; now I am afraid she will do a great deal of mild mischief. Those children of hers are every one of them too proud to make her do what is right; and I greatly fear that the girls and Gerald will suffer for it. Sir Francis Tollemache cannot, in justice to his wife and the children she may bring him, marry without a fortune, and a large one too. However, we'll hope for the best; and now go to bed, my pet, and don't let me see you looking sorrowful again.'

'Well, papa, I had cause, for if you had not been what you arethe dearest and best of papaswhere should I have been, eh?'

'I don't think Georgie Clifford is exactly the kind of wife Rupert should have selected,' pensively remarked Mrs. Knightly, when her visitors had departed, and while Georgie's glance of amazement at her pearly tints was still burning into her soul.

'Not the sort of wife? Oh, mamma! where could Rupert, or any one else, find a better, dearer wife than Georgie will be?' answered Augusta.

Where could Rupert, or any other man, find a purer, truer woman than Georgie Clifford, mother?' put in Gerald, rather hotly. 'A woman more worthy of being the wife of a noble-natured fellow like Rupert does not exist.'

'I didn't mean anything against her truth and purity and goodness,' responded Mrs. Knightly petulantly; 'it's very hard I can't make a remark, without being snapped at by my own children, very hard, indeed. I only meant that I thought, considering all things, Rupert might have done better; and I will repeat, in spite of your both snapping at me so, that Georgie Clifford is tootoo-I hardly know what to call it, but not staid and dignified enough for Rupert.'

'Dear mamma,' interposed Florence, 'I think you hardly understand Georgie.'

'Good morning, mother,' said Gerald, rising; 'I am sorry you should do yourself the injustice of affecting to fear that the dignity of the proudest man in the land could suffer through Miss Clifford.'

'Now you are unkind, Gerald,' began Mrs. Knightly, two tiny tears welling up into her eyes.

'Not that, dearest mother,' he answered, lightly stooping down to kiss her; but, for heaven's sake, don't test our tempers by disparaging Georgie Clifford.'

Mrs. Knightly immediately protested that she was very fond of her; but when Gerald walked out of the room she could not help repeating that after all she still must think, and perhaps they would allow her to say what she thought, that Georgie Clifford was not the wife for Rupert.

Augusta heard the reassertion in scornful silence-she frequently now received her mother's remarks in this way-but Florence combated the notion warmly, and there was anger and wrath between Mrs. Knightly and her youngest daughter. Sir Francis Tollemache-a fine, handsome, young, frank-faced man -was waiting to meet them that night at Her Majesty's;' and as Augusta's hand lay upon his arm, and Mrs. Vining kept close to him in the excitement of some important communication she was desirous of making, Florence fell to Colonel Crofton's charge, and it was by her side that he took his stand when they entered Mrs. Vining's box.

He had been bending down speaking in soft, under tones to the beautiful younger sister, when raising his head suddenly he met the full, fixed gaze of the elder, of that Miss Knightly, even more beautiful now than then, to whom he had tendered his hand and heart two years before. He returned her gaze as fully and unflinchingly; and a mocking, defiant light burnt in his dark, velvety eyes, and the reflection of a sneer curled his lip for one moment. The next he was bending down, renewing those dulcet whispers which he had judged to be displeasing to Miss Knightly, as being addressed to her sister.

Florence Knightly was lovely enough to have commanded any man's homage; and on this, her first night of reappearance in the London world, she looked extraordinarily so.

Unlike her sister, who had placed jewels on her superbly-beautiful head, Florence had adopted the artifice of extreme simplicity for this occasion. She had robed herself in a high white muslin, with not the smallest bit of colour superadded to brighten up its cold purity, and she had brushed all her fair hair back in a loose, unconstrained mass, and fastened rather low down on the left side-partially against her cheek, partially against the golden hair-a large white rose; this was all there was of ornament about her, and though she looked